


to be a king beside you, somehow

by louchanan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Bottom Louis, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Prince Louis, Top Harry, Trans Male Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louchanan/pseuds/louchanan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis frowns. “You deserve more than the way you’ve been treated by others,” Louis says.</p><p>Harry smiles and turns until his body is facing Louis. He winds his knees up to his chest and rests his arms on them. “I could say the same about you, my Prince,” He licks over his chapped lips and looks at the floor. Louis thinks his top lip is comprised of two pink flower petals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be a king beside you, somehow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello !!!! Hi !!!!
> 
> I impulsively started writing this fic when I remembered that I love Royalty AUs and we still need more trans fics. So this is completely self indulgent and written in under a month so maybe it's not my best work but I hope you'll enjoy !!!
> 
> I don't really know how to tag certain things accurately so I will put warnings here.
> 
> Louis does go through some abuse for being trans. No transphobic slurs are used but there is definite transphobia and even misogyny directed at Louis. There is some very minor smut in this fic and it's vague to stay away from directly mentioning Louis's genitalia. There is some slightly violent scenes but I don't get really descriptive and they're quite short scenes so hopefully you can bear but if not, that's okay ! 
> 
> I could be missing something so read with caution, stay safe, love you. Enjoy ! :-)
> 
>  
> 
> [come chat with me on tumblr if you'd like](http://louchanan.tumblr.com)

Louis sits beside his mother’s bed, playing with the chestnut hair that tickles his ears and gently kicking his foot while the other is tucked under his leg. “Ellery, what have you done to your hair, darling?” He startles as he looks up and sees his mother’s weak gaze on him. He’s sad to admit that he sees her eyes getting dimmer each day. 

 

“I cut it, mother,” He answers. Niall helped him with it too but in case she becomes angry with him, he’s not going to mention it. 

 

“You crazy girl,” she replies with a smile as she knits her fingers together above her abdomen. “I see you're wearing some of the clothing your father used to wear when he was younger too.” He self consciously strokes the thin fringes that fall from the golden epaulettes on his shoulders. “They’re very becoming of you,” she adds and Louis feels some relief settle inside of his bones. 

 

“How are you feeling today?” He asks. 

 

“The same as yesterday, darling. And it’s likely I’ll feel the same tomorrow,” She answers. “It’s becoming a bit foolish of you to continue asking a question with an answer that you dislike to be reminded of.”

 

“Is it foolish of me to be optimistic that I’ll have more time with you?” He counters. She sighs and reaches over to tuck a loose piece of his fringe into place. He looks back at her with his shockingly blue eyes. 

 

“Darling, you know, you’ve always had beautiful blue eyes. When are you going to choose a prince to take your hand? You’d be the perfect bride,” She says. 

 

“I’m just not ready yet, mother,” he mumbles. 

 

When he exits her bedroom, he leaves with a heart feeling heavier than it did yesterday. 

 

On his way to the kitchen, he sees his sister step into the hallway he’s in and surprise takes over her face. “Hi, Fizzy,” he says as he walks towards her. She falls into step beside him. 

 

“Almost didn’t recognize you, Ellery,” she says. He gives Felicity a tight lipped smile as they continue walking. “You look very handsome,” she comments timidly. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

 

She turns around and begins to walk in the opposite direction. Louis watches her go and feels his heart flutter in adoration for his little sister. She’s caught on but won’t press the matter. He appreciates it greatly. He continues on his path to the kitchen. 

 

He hears the bustling before he sees it. He knows that Ann Marie is awake and already manning the kitchen. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to grab an apple without being scolded. He decides to step inside the kitchen anyway and try to be stealthy about it. 

 

His hand is barely clutching the bright red apple before he’s spotted. “What have you done to your hair?” Ann Marie sneers as she walks towards him. “You stupid girl!” 

 

He picks up the apple and keeps a neutral expression on his face. “I cut it, miss,” He takes a bite of the apple and chews happily. 

 

“And you’re wearing your father’s clothes!” She adds. “You’ll never be married if you throw away your beauty like this. Get out of my kitchen. A lady will look like a lady in my kitchen!” 

 

Louis decides then to be stubborn and be still. Ann Marie’s eyes widen and she takes him by the wrist, pushing him until he’s bent over the marble slab that is her cutting table. Louis squeals as she pulls down his pantaloons and takes a wooden spoon to the backs of his thighs. “A lady! Will! Also! Act! Like! A! Lady! In my kitchen!” Every word is punctuated with a lick to his sensitive flesh.

 

Every brush of fabric against his skin causes him to wince as he retreats to his bedroom. He finds that the only good thing about becoming king soon is that he’ll be able to keep Ann Marie in line. He’s above killing, but he’s not above threats. 

 

He throws himself onto his bed, laid on his chest to avoid any more contact than necessary to his irritated thighs. He huffs when he hears a knock at his door. “Who is it?” He calls out. 

 

“Messenger Payne, Princess,” He answers. 

 

“Come in, Liam.” Louis flinches as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Liam enters and seems taken aback by Louis’s new appearance. “Yes, I cut my hair and I’m wearing my father’s clothes. What do you have for me?”

 

“Yes, Princess. You have another letter from the prince o-,” Louis takes the letter from his hands, gets to his feet, and walks over the the fireplace in his bedroom. He tosses the letter and turns to Liam with a smile.

 

“It’ll help the fire later. Write the prince of… wherever he’s from and tell him his letter made me feel warm,” Louis replies.

 

Liam continues to be shocked after several instances of Louis doing the exact thing. He has to learn soon. Liam shuts his parted lips and swallows thickly. “Princess… You can’t put this off forever. Y-you’re going to need a king soon. You can’t be in charge without a king,” He says. 

 

Louis squints at him. “Watch me,” He challenges. “Please leave my room, Messenger.” 

 

Liam leaves immediately, knowing that Louis calls him Liam unless he’s upset with him. Then he’s just the Messenger.

 

When night comes, Louis peels off the clothing. He stands in front of his mirror and stares at the softness of his body, the curved and rounded edges that fill him with hatred for himself. He can take off the clothing and appear nothing like the man he is in his head. He is nothing like the man he is in his head. 

 

\---

 

Louis wakes up before the sun begins to peek over the mountains at the kingdom. 

 

He hardly ever sneaks out due to the possible danger he’d face outside of the gates and that he’s never truly gotten away with sneaking out. He just needs to find something worth taking a reprimand for. This is worth it.

 

He mounts his favorite horse and starts for the gates, where he is naturally stopped by a knight. “For what matters are you leaving the castle for, Princess?” He asks.

 

Louis pulls off the burgundy hood of his cloak and tries his best to keep his teeth from chattering. He smiles. “Don’t ask me of my business or I’ll have your head when I’m in charge,” he says. “Open the gate if you know what’s good for you.”

 

He rides, the horse galloping loudly on the cobblestone grounds and wind whipping his face. He hisses at himself for not choosing thicker clothing to wear. But this quest cannot have his identity as royalty known.

 

He continues to ride until the cobblestone path becomes a dirt road that leads into the thick forest just outside the kingdom. He slows his horse down until his hooves play a gentle beat. 

 

He’s only heard rumors about the person he’s trying to find. Apparently, he lives in a tree. The largest tree in this forest that is only found if it deserves to be found by those who seek it. Those who are deemed undeserving go deeper and deeper into the forest and never come out. Louis hopes he’s worthy. 

 

Louis steers his horse through the thicket, going wherever a corner of his mind is telling him to go. 

 

He’s heard that the man that lives in this tree has eyes that turn a demonic black and hair that turns to snakes. He’s heard that the man also eats rabbits and birds. Charming. He’s definitely not someone Louis wants to have the pleasure of meeting but he doesn’t have many options to begin with.

 

Louis doesn’t dive deeply into the forest out of fear of never coming back to his family. He won’t find him. He sighs and begins to turn his horse around, only to be met with the sight of a giant sequoia tree. 

 

He dismounts. 

 

He rounds the tree until he finds that when people said he lived in a tree, he didn’t live swinging and hanging from the branches. He lives inside the trunk. 

 

Vines are knotted together to create a curtain in front of the mouth of the carved out center of the tree. He squeezes his fist around the hilt of dagger at his side before he parts the green curtain and steps into the tree. 

 

It’s brightly illuminated by the candles that live on every surface, spilling wax onto the floor. His eyes first go to the table covered in bottles, corks keeping the bright liquids from spilling out. He takes two more steps. He sees the shelves holding piles of color-separated roses, all browning and drying out. Near it are herbs and more flowers hung on a line like clothing. He takes three steps. He can see the stove boiling a pot of what looks like water but by the way it’s beginning to smoke, it apt isn’t. 

 

He goes to take another step but that’s when he takes in the biggest spectacle of it all. The man. 

 

“I was waiting for you to finally take notice of me, Princess,” He replies, voice deep and lined by a kind of darkness. He’s sat in a beat up royal chair, inviting legs crossed and leading up to a large panel of his bare chest, the rest of it covered by his suit jacket. His jacket squares off his shoulders and makes him perfectly broad. The stiff collar and golden design on it makes him look more like royalty than Louis has ever felt. 

 

Louis’s heard he’s deadly. With looks like these, he’s inclined to believe it. 

 

He stands and turns back to his chair, reaching out a hand towards it as he pulls his long, curly hair to one side. Louis watches as a black kitten races up his arm and onto his shoulder. The man walks until he’s able to place his hands on the bottle table. 

 

Louis removes his hood and finally meets his eyes. “Prince,” he corrects him, his eyes never straying from his green ones. Green eyes that don’t compare to the trees and brush Louis powered through to find him. 

 

His eyes widen then soften just as quick. “Prince. Right,” he responds.

 

“What is your name?” Louis asks.

 

“It doesn’t matter what my name is,” He says coolly. “What have you come to me for?” 

 

Now Louis averts his eyes. He plays with the ties on his cloak before opening his mouth to speak, “I wear my father’s clothes. I have been wearing them since I began to fit in them, mostly in the security of my bedroom.” He swallows around the lump forming in his throat. “Every time I take them off, I feel angry. Angry that because of my body, I’m not supposed to wear these clothes. Because of my body, I’m expected to find a prince to be king and be a submissive queen to him. I’m not a princess. I’m a prince, and I don’t want to be in pain every time my clothes come off.”

 

Louis brings his eyes back to the man and sees the hard stare he’s giving him. “I have something for you,” He says simply, no disgust or judgement in his voice. He kneels to look through the concoctions hidden away in the shelves of his table. His black kitten jumps off his shoulder and onto the table’s surface. The feline eyes Louis in interest before moving along and walking on the table like an obstacle course, avoiding bottles and jumping over tiny spills. 

 

When the man emerges from behind the table, he places a vial on the table. The pale yellow liquid is safely corked away like the rest of the bottles. “This isn’t a magical potion more than it is just a medicine. Of sorts. You are not going to see rapid results in one use but you will see results eventually. You need to take a spoonful of it every day until it runs out. It doesn’t taste at all good so mix it with your tea or wine if you want to tone it down. Once you run out, you come back to me,” He informs Louis. “This takes a week to make and I can only make a small batch at a time. But it will be ready for you to pick up. If I happen to be gone when you arrive for your new vial, please don’t come inside. I’d hate for you to get hurt. Your vial will be inside the knothole by the door. You’ll see it on your way out.”

 

“How will I find you again?” 

 

“You’ll find me,” he assures him.

 

Louis nods, trusting him. “What do I pay you, sir?” 

 

“Nothing, Your Royal Highness,” He answers with a smile as he slides the vial over to Louis. “I only want to help people. It costs me nothing to do so.” 

 

Louis leaves the tree with something stirring in his heart. Hope. 

 

When he enters the room, the sick sound of coughing hits his ears. His mum’s caretaker notices him standing by the door and gives him a sad smile. He nears the bed and does his best to appear like the sickness killing his mother isn’t killing him too

 

His mother wipes her hand on her bedsheet. “Hi, mother,” he coos, trying to ignore the red streaks left behind.

 

“Hi, my sweet,” she says as cheerfully as she can but the hoarseness in her voice defeats her. “Where’d you go this morning? I heard you left before the sun came up.” 

 

Louis chuckles. “It’s true, I did. I’m sorry for it,” He replies. “I went to see someone.” 

 

“A prince?” She perks up. 

 

He doesn’t have the heart to deny it. “Yes, a prince,” He lies. “I found a prince and he’s going to be a great king one day.” With the vial tucked in his pocket, he’s not too far from the truth. He’s going to find and be that prince. 

 

Niall’s eyes widen. “What in God’s name do you mean?” he asks as he grabs a glass and turns the spout of the cask nearest to him, pouring himself a pint. 

 

“I met a man and he gave me something that’ll… that’ll make me a prince,” Louis tries to explain but it still doesn’t clear up anything in Niall’s head. He takes a long drink of his pint and hums. 

 

“So witchcraft?” 

 

“Not exactly. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow completely different. It’ll take time but it’ll happen,” he replies. Niall continues to watch him quizzically but shrugs and finishes off the rest of his pint. 

 

“Okay. I’m happy for you, Louis,” He says.

 

“Thank you. But I need some wine.” 

 

Niall leads him into the corridor that holds all their casks of wine. Louis tells him that he doesn’t need an especially great wine, just something to mute the bad taste of the liquid like the man told him. So Niall takes him to a cask near the middle of the hall. 

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have proper wine glasses to pour Louis a drink with. But Louis doesn’t mind. Niall turns the spout and a rich red fills the bottom of the glass. He holds it while Louis pulls the vial from his pocket and yanks out the cork from the opening. He takes the glass in a shaky hand and tilts the vial into it, pouring what he deems is a spoonful. 

 

Niall takes the vial from him and watches as the wine disappears into Louis’s lips. When Louis removes the glass from his lips, Niall watches even closelier for a reaction, a change. All that changes is Louis’s facial expression as it contorts into disgust. “God, that does taste fucking awful,” Louis huffs. 

 

“Watch your mouth,” Niall says with mock sternness. He mimes having a wooden spoon in his hand and raises the pitch of his voice as he says, “A lady will act like a lady in my kitchen!” 

 

“Stop it, you jester,” Louis hisses as Niall goes in to smack his bum, “You’re hitting your future king.” But he laughs along with him.

 

\---

 

“Not going to pull your hood off for me this time, Your Highness?” The man teases from his place at his stove. He doesn’t hear any response from Louis and looks over to see his lips in the flat line. “It was only a joke, Your Majesty.”

 

“I only came for another vial. Not jokes.”

 

The man casts a nervous expression in his direction and nods. “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness. It’s almost done. I was up late last night, didn’t get up early enough to finish this for you. It might take a while,” He says as he steps away from the stove and moves towards Louis. “It won’t happen again. You can come back later for it.”

 

“I’d rather not make the trip again,” Louis replies. 

 

“Oh. Well, it’s going to take another two hours before it’s ready. It needs to boil on low heat until it’s thicker and all the ingredients are infused.” Louis huffs in frustration. “I hope you don’t mind me asking. But are you quite alright, my Prince?” 

 

Louis doesn’t respond, just turns his hooded face to the floor. “I’m going to approach you. Please don’t be threatened,” the man says softly and Louis hears his footsteps grow louder until he sees his bare feet in front of his shoes. Gentle fingertips brush along his temples to remove the hood and reveal his face. “My Prince, you’re in pain.” 

 

Louis wasn’t aware his aunt was visiting. He wasn’t ready to have his sheets ripped from him and limbs pulled this way and that to get him into a tight corset against his will.

 

It was too early for him to deal with the insults that left his aunt’s unfiltered mouth, talking about how her son, Louis’s cousin, would never want to marry him looking the way he did. Too early, so he acted inappropriately. He pushed her away from him before she could tighten the corset anymore. She was ready to explode at him but he silenced her with a quick, seething whisper of, “I will kill you.” She was terrified but still managed to backhand Louis’s cheek, her expensive and gargantuan rings oddly splitting his skin, and leave the room, screaming about the devil.

 

“I have some things to relieve you,” the man promises. 

 

When he returns to Louis, he has a bottle in his hands. The liquid is a bright green and it’s a little intimidating. “Don’t look at it like that,” the man chides him playfully. “It’s green apple flavored.”

 

Louis lets the man tilt the liquid into his mouth until he’s given him a proper dose. “That is not… green apple,” Louis says. 

 

“Okay but it’s close.”

 

“Hardly,” Louis responds with a giggle. “What else do you have?”

 

The man smiles before opening his arms. “An embrace,” he says. “Unless Your Highness isn’t one for hugs.”

 

Louis gives him a smile before allowing himself to be pulled into the embrace. His cheek is less sensitive than it once was so he doesn’t wince when it presses against the man’s bare chest. “You don’t have to call me Your Highness,” Louis mumbles. 

 

“I do it to show respect.” 

 

“You already show me more respect than most by acknowledging who I am,” Louis replies. “You can call me Louis.” 

 

“Louis,” he tests out. 

 

“You can call me that… if you tell me your name.” 

 

The man pulls away with a smug smile on his pink pillowy lips. “You cunning little prince. You’d be perfect for the throne,” He says, which sends tingles through Louis’s body. He’s the first person to voice that Louis is suited to be a king. Even if it is in a joking matter. 

 

“Are you never going to tell me?” Louis asks. 

 

“I’m going to try,” He answers. “I can’t see myself keeping it from you for too long. I get the feeling that you’re going to become difficult to keep anything from.”

 

“I hope that’s not an entirely bad thing.”

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” he replies. 

 

Louis sits in the ancient royal chair while the man tidies up around the room. He eyes the skull dangling by a string of beads from the man’s pocket, swinging lightly with every movement. The man’s eyes turn to Louis and a corner of his lips curl up as he wipes down his messy table. “What’s that little thing from?” Louis asks, gesturing to the skull. 

 

“It belonged to another kitten I had,” The man says with a tiny pout. “Poor thing got picked up by an owl and the only thing I saw of her later was her skull. I should’ve taken better care of her so I carry it to remind myself. Especially since I have this little one now.”

 

Louis looks at the black kitten circling his feet before petting at his shins, begging for attention. He smiles as the man picks the kitten up in the cup of his hand and places it on his shoulder. 

 

Louis shakes his head to himself and the man sees it. “What?” He voices, eyes bright with amusement. 

 

Louis feels his cheeks go pink. “I don’t know. I remember on my way here the first time, I was slightly terrified of who I would find. I’ve only heard rumors about you and what you do. All the negative ones I’ve heard aren’t true,” he admits. “You’re not a demon or a cannibal. You’re quite lovely.”

 

The man smiles. “I could very well be a lovely, demon cannibal,” he jokes before walking over and dropping his kitten down in Louis’s lap. The kitten curls in on itself and shuts its eyes. “I hope you don’t mind watching Christopher.”

 

“I don’t mind,” he confirms as he tenderly combs the kitten’s fur with his fingers, feeling the small knobs of its spine. 

 

Louis’s eyelids begin to feel heavy as the man begins to organize his concoctions. “Those rumors aren’t technically wrong, Louis,” he speaks but some of the meaning is lost in Louis’s sleep muddled brain. “I used potions on some bad people. I made them hallucinate and I became all their fears. I hope that doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

 

“Y’lovely,” Louis slurs before it goes black. 

 

When he comes to, the tree is empty and Christopher is still in his lap. He doesn’t go on a search for the man, not wanting to disturb Christopher’s sleep. He waits. 

 

He doesn’t wait long, thankfully. The man enters but a few minutes later, stripped completely of his suit jacket and showing off the markings on his arms. “What… What are those drawings on your arms?” Louis croaks. 

 

The man glances down at them like he’s forgotten they were there. He replies, “Memories.” He traces the anchor at his wrist. “I’ve lived many lives. Don’t want to forget any.”

 

Louis stiffens. “What do you mean you’ve lived many lives?” He asks.

 

The man takes in Louis’s tenseness and becomes disappointed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You probably think I’m a monster,” he says as he looks away from Louis. Now Louis feels guilt settle in his stomach. 

 

“I don’t,” Louis denies. “I don’t think you’re a monster. The problem is… I-I just don’t know  _ what _ to think. You’re unlike anyone I’ve met. I’m sorry for any disrespect.”

 

The man sighs and nods. “If you want to know,” he starts as he goes through the shelves of flowers, “I was a lonely orphan before I was taken in by a ship crew. I worked for Captain Edward, who was one of the meanest pirates on the sea. When I came onboard, he instantly took to me. I think it was because I reminded him of his son, who he lost just a few months earlier. He… He was like a father to me and I was like a son to him. He gifted me his surname so I was more like his real family. When he passed, he’d already taught me everything he knew about being a captain and he passed the title on to me when I was just nineteen. 

 

“I became obsessed with making sure our ship was always in the best condition, always stocked. I’d have every vulnerable ship that passed us raided. This got the better of me one day when we raided a specific ship. The  _ Titan’s Shadow _ , I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” He clears his throat as he picks out a rose and twirls its dried stem between his fingers before continuing, “I thought it would be easy to take down the ship’s crew, and it was. We left the ship barren and as my men were transporting the goods back onto our ship, an elderly lady grabbed me by the wrist and told me about my evil, unkind heart. How no one would love a pirate and she… Cursed me. I stopped aging. I didn’t realize this for five years. At first, I considered it a blessing. I would never grow old, never leave anything behind. But… my men, they left me behind. The crew member count went down every month until it was only me. These… tattoos on my skin are memories I have of people that death took from me. Death continues to run from me.” A darkness covers his facial features, “I can’t even die at my own hand… I don’t know how much longer this curse is going to keep me alive. Out of fear that the answer is forever, I don’t want to forget anyone.” 

 

“You haven’t found something to reverse the spell?” Louis asks. 

 

“I… I have. But it’s not something I can accomplish on my own,” He says shyly. “I found the curse in my spellbook and I found out what it was that I needed to break it. It’s not another spell or a potion. It’s an emotion.” 

 

Louis thinks he understands. The woman in the man’s story said he had an unkind heart and no one would love him. He needs someone’s love. 

 

Louis felt sorry for him. He says this, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” He replies. “I’ve made peace with it. I’ve learned a lot and now I get to help people. Watch this, Louis.”

 

He kneels before Louis with the dead rose laying in the palm of his hand. He brings his hands together and conceals the flower. When he removes his top hand, Louis watches the brown petals slowly regain their moisture and pink color. The black stem becomes a deep green adorned by leaves with ridged edges. Louis stares in amazement. “Incredible,” he breathes. A rose being brought from the dead and being even more beautiful than its first life. “Can… Can you do that with people?” He asks hopefully. 

 

The man raises an eyebrow as he stands straight. “I don’t know,” He answers. “Why? Is there a dead person you want to bring back?”

 

“No…,” Louis trails off. “My mother, she’s sick. Her days are numbered. You could come with me, back to the castle and see what you could do.”

 

The man has a shadow of something casted on his face as he shakes his head. “I can’t do that, Louis. I’m sorry,” He walks over to his stove and pulls the pot off the flame. 

 

Louis stands from the chair, Christopher quickly jumping to his feet, and nears him. “Why not?” He huffs petulantly. Louis stares at the muscles in his back, shifting and stretching his skin taut as he pours the thick liquid into a new vial. His skin looks smooth and Louis just wants to touch. 

 

“Don’t you think there’s a reason I’m out in the woods, Louis?” He says, voice inching on a hiss. “I’m not welcomed with other people. I’m not welcomed in the kingdom. Understand that.” 

 

He hands the warm vial to Louis and stares him down. “I’m your friend,” Louis retorts. The man is about to respond when he’s cut off. “You’re welcomed with me.”

 

The man feels something heavy in his chest, hearing the sound of Louis’s horse galloping away with him. 

 

\---

 

Louis dreads the day his second vial is emptied. He has to go back to the man and he doesn’t know where they stand after his little fit. 

 

He reluctantly dismounts his horse, body trembling as he walks towards the mouth of the tree. He ducks his head in and doesn’t find the man, doesn’t even see Christopher. He sighs, he won’t be getting his vial. 

 

He’s about to jump back on his steed when he remembers. The knothole. 

 

He reaches his hand in and feels relief flood him when his grip closes around a vial… and something else. He pulls the items out, finding a vial, which is normal, and a pink rose with a note tied to its stem. 

 

_ I’m sorry. -Harry _

 

\---

 

“Felicite thinks you’re becoming a boy,” His sister, Charlotte, says hours before the start of the ball. Louis freezes in front of his mirror. 

 

“Maybe she isn’t wrong,” he replies. His jawline has grown sharper, the hair on his arms darker. There are other changes so minor that Louis can’t really point out but knows that they’ve happened.

 

“You can’t be a boy,” she argues. “You have to take mum’s place.”

 

“I don’t have to.”

 

Charlotte stands from his bed and begins to exit the room, “I’d never forgive you if you gave into your delusions. You have to be our queen, Ellery.” 

 

Louis flinches at the harsh slam of his door. 

 

The ballroom is decorated in shades of blue and gold. Flowers line the grand staircase and the center chandelier sparkles. The checkered floor shines underneath Louis’s feet. It’s possibly the last ball his mother will ever celebrate. He wants it to be amazing for her. 

 

Louis had Liam invite every friendly royal family and a few of the upper class, not quite royalty, from their own kingdom. He had the castle maids clean every guest room for whoever doesn’t want to take the ride back after a night of festivities. He had Niall bottle one of their older, finer wine casks. Ann Marie managed to put aside her thoughts of sticking a fork in Louis’s chest enough to push her cooks around to cater for the ball. It’ll be amazing. 

 

The musicians play beautifully as lovers dance in the middle of the scene. Louis looks over at his mother sitting at the head table, a small smile on her lips. He can almost forget the reason for the way she keeps a serviette clutched in her hand. 

 

“Princess,” Louis whips his head around. “You have changed.” 

 

“Prince…,” Louis trails off, his name not coming to him. 

 

“Healy, your Highness,” He replies with a hint of snark, trying to hide his offense but failing slightly. Of course, Louis expected nothing less from him. “My father’s heard of you denying all the princes trying to court you. He tells me not to bother myself but I can’t help it. You are quite beautiful. Would be more beautiful if I put you in a dress.” 

 

Louis snorts, “You won’t put a future king in a dress.” 

 

“I would put  _ my future queen _ in one,” he challenges, eyeing Louis up and down. “My father also mentioned that. He described you as stubborn and… misguided. Said you’d need a husband who can put you in your proper place. I can be that husband.” 

 

Louis rolls his eyes and places a hand on his hip. “Look,  _ boy _ ,” Louis starts. “If I was a princess, I’d cut off my legs before swooning over you. I know what your intentions are. I know you and your father only think of expanding your kingdom with your thick heads. I’m not giving you a piece of my kingdom. I’m not going kneel and beg you to take my hand in marriage. You think you could speak to me with that impudence and win my heart? You know nothing of love. You know  _ nothing _ .”

 

He walks away. 

 

It’s a good night. 

 

\---

 

Louis wipes away the tear that slips from his eye with a shaky hand. “Mother… is there anything you want… Anything I could do to make your final days the best? Your wish is my command,” He says with a trembling lip. He takes his mother’s hand and squeezes it. His heart breaks with her weak attempt at squeezing back. 

 

“I want to leave knowing the kingdom is in the hands of a proper queen,” She replies with a soft smile. 

 

“Consider it done,” He whispers, feeling like he’s raising his white flag. 

 

“Christopher, careful!” Louis hears Harry shout as he gets off his saddle. He snorts, wondering how his tiny kitten could cause any trouble. He pulls the vine curtain and understands. 

 

There is no tiny black kitten in the tree. There is a black panther. 

 

This larger, deadlier version of Christopher whips its head around and eyes Louis. Louis swallows the fear in his throat and yelps as Christopher sprints in his direction. His back hits the ground and he’s waiting for the pain of being torn open by Christopher’s claws and teeth. Instead he has the side of his face licked from the bottom to top. “Christ,” Louis huffs. 

 

Christopher finally crawls off of him and nudges at Louis’s side with his muzzle. Harry steps out of the tree and reaches out a hand to him. “Sorry about that, Your Highness,” Harry says as he gets Louis to his feet and brushes away the dirt clinging to his clothing. “He accidentally lapped at a potion and I woke up to him looking like this.” 

 

“You should keep him like that,” Louis suggests. Harry raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “It’s actually quite nifty. No one would bother you if you have a panther for a pet. And he still seems to love you.” 

  
Harry looks down at Christopher rubbing his head against his thigh. “I’ll consider it. Come inside.” 

 

Louis takes a seat on the new bench Harry’s acquired and pulls off his boots to become equally as barefooted as Harry. He sighs and tucks his feet under himself. Harry turns around to face him, broom in his hand, and his eyebrows furrow. “Are you alright?” He asks. Louis sees that weird expression Harry always has when he’s a mix of confused and concern. 

 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” 

 

Harry opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, reconsidering. With careful words, he says, “I don’t know. I just… feel things. Sense things about you sometimes.” He sweeps at a pile of dried herbs and flower petals. “I… I knew you were coming to me that first time. I don’t know how or why. But I did. Are you sure you’re feeling well?” 

 

Louis sighs again. Harry leans the broom against a table and kneels in front of him. “You can tell me anything, my Prince. I wouldn’t tell a soul,” Harry coos. He glances over at the large panther napping on the floor. “Well, Christopher might know. But he doesn’t speak our tongue and I refuse to make speaking potions for animals after what happened last time.” 

 

“What happened?” Louis asks with a giggle. 

 

“That’s for another time,” Harry says with a smile. “But first, you.”

 

He places his hands on Louis’s knee, one on top of the other, and rests his chin on his knuckles. He looks up attentively, waiting patiently for Louis to begin. “I already told you my mother is dying, yes?” Harry nods solemnly. “Her dying wish is to see that the kingdom she leaves behind is in good hands. I… I have to be the queen she needs me to be. I have to marry a prince.”

 

Harry swallows thickly. “How much time… do you think she has?” He asks cautiously. 

 

“A week, possibly,” Louis answers, feeling his throat starting to grow tight. “She seems better some days but there’s no denying that she’s growing worse.” 

 

“You will be married within the next seven days then?” Harry questions, standing abruptly. 

 

“Yes, I will,” Louis painfully replies. “And it’s uncertain if I will ever be able to return to you after.”

 

This makes Harry pull at his hair in distress. Louis rises to his feet and reaches for Harry’s arms, bringing his hands away from his hair. “Please come back tomorrow,” Harry whispers. “Please, my prince.”

 

“But I won’t need to pick up another vial.”

 

Harry sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “I know,” his eyes open. “But I… The days before you were lonely. I know it’d be better to end this friendship between us, that it won’t hurt less in seven days. But please, let me be a fool for one more week before you’re gone forever.”

 

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

 

\---

 

“You told me I’d never have your hand,” Prince Healy comments, pushing his curly hair away from his face.

 

Louis prefers Harry’s curls. They’re beautiful, wide ringlets that frame his face. Louis would consider living in between his locks. Prince Healy’s remind Louis of bushes with leaves that would scratch at his legs. 

 

“I said I’d never  _ beg _ for you to have it,” Louis corrects him. 

 

He wasn’t at all Louis’s first choice. Hell, Louis didn’t even know who his first choice would be. But it certainly wasn’t Prince Healy. All the princes who once sent letter after letter to Louis, hoping to court him and become truly acquainted with his beauty, gave up on him and found themselves actual princesses to marry. He didn’t have options. 

 

Prince Healy gives him a smirk and nods. “My father has already made plans for the wedding. He said you might prefer the event here,” He says.

 

“He’s correct,” Louis replies, playing with the detail on the edges of his jacket. He sighs. “I’d prefer to be close to my mother in her final days.”

 

“Good girl. I’m glad you’re family-oriented. A woman has to be if she is going to bear me children,” he says casually and Louis feels a shiver through his arms. This is his future husband. 

 

Louis walks his horse near the usual tree he ties it to. “You should really smile more,” Harry says cheekily from where he stands near the mouth of the tree. He’s pulling dry clothes from a line that connects his tree to another, placing them in the braided basket in his other hand. 

 

“And if I’m too morose to smile?” Louis asks. 

 

Harry puts down his basket. “Then I’ll do what I can to wash that unhappiness away,” he answers before sprinting towards Louis. 

 

Louis squeals as he flies through the air and then lands on Harry’s back, securely wrapping his legs around his middle. Harry runs and runs. Louis looks back to see Christopher on their tails. Somehow Harry manages to keep his advancement. 

 

Harry bends at the knee to set Louis down carefully. The sound of rushing water hits Louis’s ears. “This is one of my favorite places to be besides my home,” Harry says as he nears the edge of the cliff. Louis cautiously makes his way over to peer over and share the view. “Sometimes I think it’s why I took such a liking to you. You remind me of it.”

 

Louis sees the water cascading down the cliff, becoming a blurry image as it hits the calmer surface of vivid teal water. Everything is so alive and almost out of place because of it. It looks like another world. “Have you ever swam in it?” Louis asks as he adjusts his stance, rocks crumbling underneath his feet. 

 

“No, I haven’t,” Harry admits.

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Louis says as Harry takes a seat on the ground, feet hanging over the edge. Louis takes the spot beside him. 

 

“The only way to get down there is to jump. Jumping seems a bit dangerous.”

 

“But you wouldn’t die.”

 

“That’s true,” Harry snorts. “But I’ll still get hurt. I don’t want to be hurt.”

 

Louis nods in understanding. He startles in surprise as Christopher nudges as the junction of his neck and shoulder. Harry snorts again and reaches behind Louis to pet him. “I don’t want to give this up,” Louis mumbles. “My entire life has been taking orders from others, what to wear, who to be, all of it. The one time I have something that I feel is truly mine… It has to be taken away.”

 

“You don’t have to be married,” Harry says, not meeting Louis’s eyes. “You don’t. You could reign on your own or even… Run away. Live with me.”

 

“I can’t deny the request of my dying mother, Harry,” He replies.

 

“It was just a thought, Your Highness.”

 

When they return to the tree, Christopher quickly goes to the back of the room to hop into Harry’s cot. Louis follows and takes a seat on the edge of it. 

 

“Want me to heat up some tea?” Harry asks. There’s no response. He turns around to see Louis with his arms wrapped around Christopher and Christopher’s big paws on his shoulders. 

 

“Tea would be splendid,” Louis murmurs sleepily.

 

“It’ll be ready for you when you wake up, My Prince,” Harry coos over the gentle clangs of his pots and pans. 

 

“Your Prince,” Louis repeats before he finally dozes off. 

 

\---

 

“What are you doing!” Louis screams as he tries to get into his room but is held back by two knights that aren’t his men. He tries to get at the servants exiting his room with his clothes but his efforts are futile against the knights. “Leave my clothes alone!” 

 

“Darling, please, calm down,” Prince Healy says as he exits the room behind the line of intruders stealing his clothing.

 

“Where are they taking my clothes?” Louis asks, hot tears rolling down his angry face. “Where are they taking my fucking clothes, you snake!”

 

“Don’t fret about it, my princess. It’s time for you to stop playing pretend. You’re a grown woman, not a little girl,” He condescends. “These clothes do not make you a man.” 

 

Louis spits in his face. 

 

Prince Healy chuckles and wipes it away. He snaps his fingers and points inside the bedroom. Louis feels himself be lifted and dragged into his room. He’s thrown into his bed, his hips hitting and slotting against the edge. “You know what makes a man? Putting his woman in her place,” Louis hears from behind. He shrieks as his knicker pants and undergarments are pulled down to his ankles. 

 

Prince Healy picks up the wooden brush on Louis’s nightstand and gets a good grip on the handle before doing what he intended. Louis lets out a rough cry with every hit, throat tight with pain. “Stop!” He screams. “Please stop!” But he doesn’t. Prince Healy seems to be encouraged by his pleads to keep going. 

 

Louis hears the wooden brush hit the floor and the heavy panting of the prince in the room. He’s finally ceased his torture. “I want to see you in a dress the next time I come around,” He says simply then exits the room. Louis presses his face into his mattress and screams, infuriated and humiliated. He wishes he could press hard enough to smother himself. 

 

“It’s alright, my Prince,” Harry whispers as Louis cries into his chest. “I’ll get you more clothes. I’ll make them myself if I have to.” 

 

Harry is sat on the floor and Louis is sat on the edge of the bed behind him, weaving a french braid into the side of his hair and slotting flowers into it. “Do you ever miss being a pirate?” Louis asks, breaking their safe bubble of silence. 

 

“Sometimes,” Harry answers then snorts. “It’s funny you ask that because I was thinking about that recently. I was considering… going back, sailing the seas again. There’s really nothing holding me here anymore.”

 

“What do you mean? Don’t you have others coming to you for help?” Louis asks as he finishes the braid and then plops down on the floor beside Harry. He glances at Louis with his bright green eyes, the white flowers in his hair complementing them nicely. 

 

“Not recently, no. You were the only regular I’ve had in awhile. It seems every other person that looks for me wants something to cause pain to another. I don’t provide service for malicious people. I’ve learned from the first time.” 

 

“What happened?” 

 

Harry sighs as touches one of the soft petals he can see from the corner of his eye. “Years ago, years before you were born possibly,” Harry starts, reminding Louis of the big difference in years they’ve lived, “I actually lived in the kingdom your family rules. I was providing a poison for this man because he told me he had animals digging up his garden. But he lied to me. He was slowly poisoning the husband and children of this woman he was obsessed with. It caught up to him and he was able to blame me for it. They burned down my house to smoke me out. It’s likely I would’ve been tortured if I hadn’t run away. Since hanging wouldn’t have killed me.”

 

Louis frowns. “You deserve more than the way you’ve been treated by others,” Louis says. 

 

Harry smiles and turns until his body is facing Louis. He winds his knees up to his chest and rests his arms on them. “I could say the same about you, my Prince,” He licks over his chapped lips and looks at the floor. Louis thinks his top lip is comprised of two pink flower petals.

 

“Please… Don’t go,” Louis breathes. Harry seems startled by this. “I know the possibility of me returning to you after my wedding is low but… I’d always like you to be close if the chance is ever there. Even if it’s years from now. I know it sounds selfish an--”

 

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off before he continues to ramble. “I’m not going. It was just a thought that flew through my head then flew right out.”

 

“Oh… Okay,” Louis says with relief. Harry smiles at him then turns his gaze back to the floor. His lips part, ready to speak, but he shakes his head and his mouth seals shut. “What?” 

 

“Nothing. It’s asinine,” Harry replies.

 

“Nothing you ever say is asinine. Tell me.”

 

Harry sighs and scratches at his knuckles. “I was considering sailing the seas,” he says scratchily. He clears his throat. “I was considering leaving in hopes of forgetting. You are the only person I want to forget--”

 

Immediate hurt fills Louis. 

 

“--And you’re also the only person I know I’ll never have to worry about forgetting. Sailing to forget you is probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever thought because… the sea is in your eyes, my Prince. How could I ever forget you if I’m surrounded by all the colors in your eyes? If I have to live with the pain of knowing you but not having you, I’d rather be near you than far from you. My Prince?” 

 

Louis lets out a shaky breath before saying, “Yes?”

 

“Slap me if you should find this disrespectful but I ask for nothing more than the taste of your lips before you leave,” Harry replies as he lowers his knees until his legs are flat on the floor. His eyes meet Louis’s for seconds before avoiding them. It’s obvious he’s not the most confident in his request. 

 

Louis leans forward and places a gentle hand on his knee. Harry’s eyes lock with his. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, come here.” Harry crawls until he’s sat in front of Louis. “This… This doesn’t change the situation. I hate to ruin this moment but it’s the truth. The wedding, it’s still happening.” 

 

“You attempt to kill me before you kiss me,” Harry chuckles sadly. “Let me die knowing the feel of your mouth.” 

 

Louis cups his jaw with his hand and closes the distance between their mouths. Harry’s lips feel how they look, like soft rose petals. The little noises that slip out of Harry’s mouth when his lips part are like a lullaby. Harry feels like he’s drinking sunlight from Louis’s mouth and the lining of his stomach is becoming gold. Nearly one hundred years and he’s never had a moment of ease quite like this one. 

 

They break apart to suck in air. Louis notes that the two pink petals that make up Harry’s lip have actually come from a red flower. “You’ve doomed the both of us,” Louis says. 

 

They kiss again.

 

\---

 

“You look wonderful!” Charlotte exclaims, clapping her hands. Louis frowns in the mirror, hating his pinched waist and the appearance of his shrunken breasts pushed as far up as they can go to give an illusion of being full. He despises himself. 

 

Felicite stands in the doorway, knowing the way he must feel. “I think I prefer the suits,” She says and Charlotte shoots her a glare before walking over to Louis’s vanity. She carefully lifts the tiara off its pillow and walks to Louis, placing the tiara on his head. Louis wants to vanish and appear by Harry’s side. 

 

“Alright then. Prince Healy will be in soon,” Charlotte reminds him before leaving to exit the room. “He’s going to think you look amazing.”

 

She leaves and Felicity steps into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. Louis does his best to keep his face from falling. “You don’t want to get married… Do you?” She asks. 

 

“Yes,” Louis says, surprising her. “But… he is not the one.”

 

“Who is the one?” She plays with her gloved fingers nervously. 

 

Louis spins around in his dress and faces her. “A prince,” He replies. “A man who is more of a prince on the inside than any of these boys with that title could ever be.”

 

“Do you love him?” 

 

“I could.” He sighs forlornly and shakes his head. “He knows who I am, he sees every part of me and still harbors feelings for me. He treats me right. But… none of that matters because I promised mother and I’ve given Prince Healy my word.”

 

“I don’t think mother would like you sacrificing your happiness for her,” Felicity frowns. 

 

“Her happiness is mine,” Louis says. 

 

Felicity is about to speak again when the door is thrown open and Messenger Payne steps in, sweat and panic on his face. “Princesses, it’d be in your best interest to see your mother right now. This could be it,” He shakily says. Louis and Felicity’s faces pale and they run as fast as they can on heeled shoes. 

 

“Y-you’re in a dress,” His mother breathes, her expression confused. “Why are you in a dress, darling?”

 

“To be the proper wife to my prince,” Louis answers, sniffling. “Are you happy?” 

 

“Are you?” She coughs, blood flecks on the web of her thumb. “I want to die knowing my children will be happy after I’m gone.” 

 

Louis looks at Felicite and Charlotte who are sat on her bed, crying but still beautiful as ever. “We’ll be alright,” He whispers. “We have each other.”

 

Moments later, she passes without a sound. A soft breath leaves her lips like her soul is leaving to follow the sun and she’s gone. Louis chokes out a sob and drops his head into her lap. A hand squeezes his shoulder and it’s followed by a voice that says, “It’s a pity she didn’t get to see her daughter marry. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

 

Louis cries for a few more seconds before he throws the hand on his shoulder away and stands. He lifts the skirt of his dress and runs again. He hears Prince Healy call out, “Where are you going?” 

 

He only runs faster. 

 

Harry doesn’t recognize him in a dress until he sees his face, the tears streaking his cheeks. He drops his watering can and meets Louis with an embrace before he’s even got both of his feet on the ground. “My prince, you’re crying,” He says, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’s bare shoulder. With the way Louis trembles in his arms, he doesn’t need an answer to know the reason for his tears. He cradles the back of Louis’s head with a hand, accidentally knocking his tiara off but Louis is unaffected by it. “I’m going to carry you inside, my Prince,” Harry says before he picks Louis up, one arm under his shoulder blades, the other hooked under his knees. His skirt drags on the ground, collecting dirt and twigs. He’s sure Louis is glad for it. 

 

He sits Louis down on his cot and kisses his forehead. “I’m so sorry it hurts, my Prince,” He coos. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to be distracted from it?”

 

Louis wipes at the tears that keep spilling from his eyes. “Will you h-hold me?” He hiccups. Harry kisses both of his cheeks before crawling onto the cot behind him, pulling Louis until his back is to his chest. Harry cards his fingers through his hair and kisses his nape, nosing at the soft baby hair there. Louis has a scent that Harry can’t make out, a mix of lilac and something else that doesn’t belong to anyone but him. It’s sweet and heady. It’s Harry’s favorite smell. 

 

“My Prince, do you want to get out of this dress? You don’t have to but it’s a suggestion,” Harry says carefully. “I have more comfortable clothes for you if you need.”

 

“Yes, please,” Louis sniffs, standing from the cot. “Will you help me?” 

 

Harry uses delicate hands to remove Louis’s dress. It feels intimate though Harry is expecting nothing. He gets Louis down to his bloomers and corset before he speaks, “This looks like a proper torture device.”

 

“Feels like one too,” Louis chuckles wetly. Harry unties the laces in the back and watches the ridiculous curves carved into Louis’s sides smooth out. Louis throws the corset onto the floor and he’s nearly naked. He kisses Louis’s shoulder again and runs his hands down Louis’s soft triceps. Louis is everything soft in the world yet so strong inside. 

 

Louis eyes Harry from over his shoulder and gives him a meager smile. “Feeling better, my Prince?” He asks. 

 

“For now. I think the heartbreak will keep going and coming back. For how long is uncertain,” Louis replies with a sigh. 

 

“I’ll be here to pick up your pieces every time,” Harry wraps his arms around him, crossing his hands over Louis’s tummy. 

 

“Can I ask you something?” Louis asks quietly. Harry presses a kiss underneath his ear and nods. “How… How do you feel for me?”

 

“Are you asking me about the severity of my emotions towards you?” 

 

“No, I’m asking you how you manage to feel anything towards me. How do you want me when I’m not yet a man and not quite a woman?” Louis clarifies. Harry hums into his ear, understanding his question. 

 

“Well, firstly, you are a man. You’re not in between. But if you were, my Prince, I think my heart would still feel the same,” Harry answers. “Secondly, I didn’t fall in love with the outside though I quite like it too. I fell in love with your soul. It’s beautiful and even has the sun feeling intimidated with how bright it is.”

 

“You’re in love with me?” 

 

Harry blushes, realizing that he’s said that. “I guess… I guess so. My first love was the sea. It would make sense that my second would be the human embodiment of it.” Louis starts crying again. “I’m so sorry, my Prince! Did my confession upset you?” Harry panics, spinning Louis around to give him a proper hug, his eyes never straying downward too far. 

 

“I don’t want to be married,” Louis mewls. He doesn’t. Not when Harry exists and truly loves him. Not when their strange shapes and edges fit together. Meanwhile, Prince Healy tries to cut Louis down and force their pieces together. “He means nothing to me, nothing when it’s your love that I feel. He has my promise but you have my heart, Harry. Always.”

 

Harry’s bottom lip trembles and he nods. He caresses Louis’s face, wiping away his tears with his thumbs and smiles. “100 years I’ve waited for a love like this and even then, I can’t keep it,” Harry chuckles sadly. His eyes are glassy and Louis doesn’t know what he’d do if Harry began to cry. “If you should become confident in your love for me, will you tell me those three words, my Prince? So this spell will be broken and I won’t have to wander for hundreds and hundreds years before someone else finally manages to fill the space shaped like you in my heart.”

 

“I’ll tell you tonight if you make me feel your love,” Louis says before crashing their lips together. It’s desperate, it’s heated. Harry’s mouth is a taste Louis never wants to forget. Louis’s skin is a softness Harry never wants to forget. 

 

Harry breaks the kiss. “Is your heart sure, my Prince?” He asks. 

 

“You are my heart,” Louis replies before capturing his lips once again. He slips the suit jacket off of Harry’s shoulders and throws it to the floor haphazardly. He pushes Harry down onto the cot and crawls into his lap. “You are my heart,” he repeats.

 

Harry places his hands on Louis’s hips, the lace on his bloomers tickling his palms, just as he’s begun to shift his pelvis. Harry sighs at the friction meeting his cock and finds himself trying to lift his own hips into it. Louis breathes hotly against his neck as he exerts himself. “My Love,” Harry coos. 

 

It’s sin. It’s always been taught to Louis that premarital sex is the worst of sins. But right now, he can’t believe it for one moment. This moment, where he feels so close to Harry and sees the pleasure painted on his face. This moment, where they’re trying to ignore their pain by loving each other even more. It is not sin.

 

Louis lies in the cot, still wearing his frilly bloomers while Harry hurries and returns from his stove with a bottle of oil in his hand. Harry straddles his legs and waves the bottle in front of his face. He kisses Louis’s one, two, three times. “I love you, my Prince,” he whispers against his lips. “You are the king of my heart.”

 

His fingertips dance up Louis’s thigh until they can pinch the band of his underwear. Harry meets Louis’s eyes to look for any signs of insecurity or fear. He sees none and kisses the small swell of Louis’s stomach before slowly slipping his bloomers down his legs. Once they’re off, he stretches himself until he can kiss Louis’s lips.

 

Years of useless conditioning on what’s “ladylike” had taught Louis to ignore his feelings of arousal. It’s his secret that ever since Harry gave him his vials, his unladylike need to be touched spiked. He’s finally going to share that secret. “Touch me,” He sighs, holding onto one of Harry’s wrists with both of his hands and guiding it where he needs it the most.

 

“Of course, my Prince,” Harry says, pointing his index and middle finger. He rubs small circles on Louis’s most sensitive area and giggles as Louis gasps, his face scrunched up in pleasure. The vials really affected him there. “Fancy that, my Love?” 

 

“Y-yes, very much,” He stammers as he takes Harry’s face in his hands and kiss the life out of him. “Take off your drawers,” Louis whispers into his mouth, voice dark and sweet like molasses. Harry eats it up. 

 

He takes a quick break from pleasuring Louis to slip off his drawers, showing off his length that stands proudly against his toned stomach. Louis’s eyes are wide as he stares at it. “I won’t hurt you, my Love,” Harry says as he gets back into his position, hovering above Louis. He presses a gentle thumb into his cheek and smiles comfortingly. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He begins to kiss Louis again as his fingers go back to their original place, happily rubbing circles that elicit small noises from Louis’s mouth that he swallows. 

 

Louis’s moans become breathier and he squirms underneath Harry. “Keep going, keep going,” Louis pants. Harry gently bites his neck and changes the direction of the swirl he makes with his fingers. Louis is practically dripping onto Harry’s cot. Louis bucks his hips involuntarily as pleasure shoots down his spine. He latches both of his hands onto Harry’s wrist, stilling against him and whining loudly. He drops against the cot, limp and tired. 

 

“Pleasure is my favorite look on you,” Harry comments as he kisses Louis’s warm neck. “You look so beautiful. I always think there are stars in your eyes. But now I’m sure, there are entire universes in them.”

 

Louis kisses Harry’s lips and says, “Now your turn.” 

 

“Do you really want to, my Love?” He asks.

 

Louis sighs, “If I’m honest, I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. And I’m still getting married. If they figure out that I’m not pure… I don’t know what they’d do.”

 

Harry’s heart momentarily breaks, remembering that Louis is only his for a few more days. He remembers, though, that Louis’s heart is always his. He said so and Harry trusts him more than anything else. “If I may, can I propose another option that works for the both of us?” He says. 

 

Louis giggles as Harry rubs oil into the insides of his thighs. “Does it tickle, my Prince?” He asks. 

 

“Yes,” Louis answers as Harry brings both of his thighs together and pushes them back until his knees are nearly to his chest. “Are you sure this will feel good for you? Want you to feel good.” 

 

Harry shrugs before he uses his free hand to make his cock horizontal. He goes forward until his cock meets the tight cleft created by Louis’s thighs and he pushes forward. Louis sees the tip peek to the other side of his thighs and he hears Harry grunt. It does feel good. But Louis asks anyway, “Do you like it?”

 

Harry nods shakily, biting his bottom lip as he continues to thrust. Louis squeezes his thighs together just a bit harder and it makes a massive difference to Harry, going by how his moans grow louder. “Oh, my Prince,” Harry grunts. “Our bodies make the most beautiful music together. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

He leans over until he can press a quick kiss to Louis’s lips before he snaps him in half. 

 

Harry gets an idea before it’s too late. He lowers the path of his thrust to the junction of Louis’s legs and Louis’s eyes widen when his bits are given attention again. “Do you like feeling me against your prince parts?” Harry asks, slowing his movements until he gets confirmation. Louis bites his lips and whines in approval. 

 

Louis sharply exhales as Harry picks up his pace again. “My prince parts?” He says, chuckling. “Uh, I quite like that.”

 

“I’m glad, my Love,” Harry replies, sweat beginning to collect at his hairline. 

 

Their moans harmonize, Louis’s high ones mixing with Harry’s deep ones. Louis comes first again, which he’s glad for because when Harry comes, he’s beautiful and Louis wouldn’t have wanted to miss a fraction of a second of it. His face manages to soften as his eyebrows furrow. His flower petal lips part as he trembles, the warmth focused on his lower stomach and then oozing out of him in white ribbons onto Louis’s tummy. 

 

Louis smiles at the heady smile on Harry’s face, blush high on his cheeks and lips bitten red. “Come here, you fool,” Louis says, reaching out for his face. Harry lies on top of him as they share another long, syrupy kiss. 

 

“Don’t go back home tonight. Stay with me,” Harry whispers against his lips. 

 

“My home is here,” Louis replies before kissing him again. 

 

Harry lays out a quilt on the grass and settles down on it. Louis emerges from the tree, dressed in Harry’s too big clothing, and he smiles at Harry staring at the moon. The man in question turns around and catches him gazing. He smiles and pats the quilt beside him. Louis takes a seat and leans into Harry’s side, kissing the sliver of his exposed chest. “Do you like the stars, my Love?” Harry asks softly. Louis looks up and Harry sees the shadows of his face, the shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks. 

 

“I do.”

 

“Good,” Harry responds. “They’re all for you anyway. And the brightest one,” he points, “is your mother. She shines for you and she loves you.” 

 

Harry kisses his temple as his eyes go a bit glassy. “I’m going to miss her,” Louis says. 

 

“She’ll always be there,” Harry cocks his head upward, “among the other stars.”

 

\---

 

Louis wakes with Harry’s nose pressed into his nape and a terrible ache of not wanting to leave, ever. Their hearts are glued together and it’ll take all of Louis’s might to separate them. “Harry,” Louis squirms against him to wake him. “I need to get back before they come looking for me.” 

 

“They won’t find us. We’re safe here, this is our little world,” Harry mumbles sleepily into the soft hairs on his neck. “Your skin is so warm and soft, my Prince. Just like my heart whenever you’re near.”

 

“You’re going to give me a heart attack if you continue speaking so sweetly,” Louis says as he turns around in Harry’s arms to face him. They share a kiss. “I really have to leave now, my Love.”

 

“One more kiss and I’ll release you from my arms.” 

 

Before Louis rides back home, Harry helps him back into his dress. “My Love, I hate putting you in this. I know how it makes you feel,” Harry sighs as he begins to tighten his corset. “I hope for a day when you won’t be expected to wear this.”

 

“Not in this life, unfortunately,” Louis speaks. Harry kisses his shoulder. 

 

They kiss several times during the short walk outside to Louis’s horse. Harry doesn’t want to see him go, always fearing it’ll be the last time. “Return to me tomorrow,” Harry sighs against his lips. 

 

“I’ll return to you tonight,” Louis replies with a giggle. Harry lifts him until he easily mounts his horse, adjusting the skirt of his dress. 

 

With his horse back at the stables, Louis walks into the castle, already feeling the glum environment seeping into his pores. Death does that. He stares at the hem of his skirt, brown and dirty, as he walks in the direction of his room. He doesn’t make it. 

 

His head is slammed against the wall and he screams, immediately bursting into tears. “You stupid girl! You think you could humiliate me like that?” Prince Healy spits in his face. His eyes are wide and furious, his voice too loud for Louis’s ears which are already ringing. “Do you know how shameful it is to have a future bride that runs around with men and opens her legs for all of them?”

 

He yanks at his hair before slamming it against the wall again. “Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a guard follow you… to check on you because I care about you? Only to come back to tell me you were being intimate with someone. Do you know!” He shouts. He repeats his action once more. “You’re impure. You’re dirty.”

 

He drags Louis by his hair to the dungeon cells, continuing to mutter about his promiscuity, his worthlessness. He kicks Louis into the cell and he hits the floor with his knees. He’s only been in the dungeon one other time in his life. He was seven years old and his curiosity got the best of him. The dark was terrifying and he thought he saw shadows dancing from the corners of his eyes wherever he looked. He never went back since. 

 

“You should be ashamed of yourself and now you’re going to be the reason for a man’s death,” Prince Healy says. Louis wails as he gets to his feet, loses his balance but catches himself on the bars of the cell. “Maybe that’ll teach you to stop slutting around.”

 

“Prince, please! Don’t kill him,” Louis cries, pulling on the bars, hoping that he’ll have a moment of hysterical strength and break them. “Please, please, please. You can’t kill him!”

 

The Prince smirks. “Well if we can’t kill him,” he starts, saying it as if it were a joke but it isn’t far from the truth, “we’ll just torture him. Hm.”

 

He continues to plead as Prince Healy’s footsteps grow fainter and fainter. He sobs as he slides down to the floor. He hangs his head down and continues to cry, feeling the world crumbling and collapsing on top of him. He hopes it does if Harry’s not a part of it anymore. 

 

He hears footsteps a few moments later and whips his head up. “Hello!” He screams, voice rough. The footfalls hit the ground at a faster pace and they grow louder.

 

“Louis?” He steps closer to the cell and a panel of light hits his face. His suit of armor gleams. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Zayn!” Louis breathes. A familiar, friendly face. “Open the cell, please!”

 

Zayn doesn’t question it anymore. He hurries to grab the keys hung on the wall nearby and he unlocks the cage. Louis throws open the cell door and wraps his arms around Zayn, his armor digging into his flesh. “I owe you my life,” He whispers before letting him go and running as fast as his feet can go. 

 

Branches and leaves bite at Louis’s face as he rides furiously into the woods. There’s a chance he can still catch them, save Harry from being captured. He has his hand wrapped tightly around the dagger at his side as he nears the area he’s come to love and make a home in. 

 

The smell of ash fills his nostrils and makes bile start to rise in his throat. 

 

He dismounts and runs to the large tree, seeing the dead brush nearby being licked by dying flames. He coughs as he reaches the mouth of the tree and sees the interior marked with soot. The maps on his walls are destroyed. His flowers are ash. The cot they made love in is no more, nothing but a broken, burnt frame. The tide of bile only rises.

 

Louis sobs again, letting the char stain his dress. Harry left the kingdom after being smoked out like an animal. Louis brought him the same fortune. 

 

Only now there’s a possibility he didn’t run fast enough. 

 

Louis takes whatever hasn’t been completely ruined by fire. Harry’s leather bound spellbook and his journal have edges that have been eaten away but they’re still in decent condition. His compass is warm and ash is collected in the crevices, possibly never to come out again, but it’s intact. Louis only hopes he’ll be able to give them back to him.

 

His footfalls echo throughout the empty foyer as he walks up the grand staircase. As he turns the corner, he hears footsteps behind him. “Princess, princess!” Liam’s voice calls out. His eyes widen as Louis holds a dagger to his neck.

 

“Don’t you ever! call me a princess again, Messenger,” Louis seethes. His built up fury is so visible in the way he breathes raggedly and his teeth are bared like a threatened animal. This image doesn’t last long for he crumbles, dropping the dagger and screwing up his face in pain. He falls into Liam’s arms and cries, soaking his shirt with his tears. “I apologize for my actions. I don’t wish to h-harm you, Liam. The world’s ablaze and it seems the fire is burning inside of me also.”

 

The Messenger brings an arm around him. “It’s alright, prince. I-I am wondering if the reason for your pain has anything to do with the message sent from Prince Healy. It’s addressed to you,” He says. Louis pulls back enough for Liam to read the paper in his hand. “He says that they won’t continue to torture… Harry if you promise to never see him again and allow them to move Harry across the ocean. He’ll be safe under the condition that you marry Prince Healy and… and submit to wearing a chastity belt only he can unlock. If you do not agree to these conditions, he’ll be tortured daily, given minimal food and water, and a maximum of two hours of sleep every night.”

 

Liam seems uncomfortable and Louis’s teeth hurt from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Prince Healy, the vilest of creatures. “Find Zayn and send him to my room. I want to talk,” Louis says through his teeth. 

 

“How do you reply, prince?” Liam asks as he begins to walk away. 

 

Louis turns around, “Tell him he’s the plague of my life!”

 

He undresses and gets into the only suit Healy’s minions managed to leave behind. It’s black with golden epaulettes that square off Louis’s shoulders. Louis does the brass buttons and pulls on his black boots that stop nearly midthigh. He clips his belt around his waist just as a knock comes to his door. “Come in,” Louis calls out as he fixes his hair. 

 

“Prince, you asked for me?” Zayn says as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. He’s still wearing his armor but he’s adorned it with his royal blue cloak, the Tomlinson family crest embroidered onto it. He’s always like the stag head being the focal point of the crest. 

 

“Yes. We’re going to war.”

 

Zayn’s eyes squint. “With Prince Healy?” He questions and Louis nods. “Do you want me and my men to surge his kingdom, killing everyone in our path?”

 

“If that’s what it comes to, we will do it,” Louis replies. 

 

“I think you’re being foolish. We cannot shed blood of the innocent,” Zayn says. Louis whips around to face him. 

 

“He’s taken the one I care for,” Louis explains, voice becoming shaky again. “Have you ever felt an immense love for someone that your heart aches whenever you are apart? You feel less whole without them.”

 

Zayn pauses, jaw tightening before he answers, “Yes.”

 

Louis remembers. Zayn, a young squire with soft raven hair, wielding a stick as a sword against the poor little blond boy, whose father was the butler before him. He remembers watching them play. He never could join them, too busy being taught how to grow into a woman that he didn’t want to be, that he wasn’t. He also remembers that as Zayn grew older, the knight he assisted would take more of his time. He saw Niall less and less. It was a soft love that still lingers, still gives Zayn the incentive to stay in one piece. Even for just a glance in the blond boy’s way. 

 

“I have to do this, Zayn. I can’t sacrifice my happiness. And after this, I will make sure that you will never have to sacrifice yours,” Louis says, nearing him and grabbing onto his cloak. “Times will change for us. I will make sure of it.”

 

Zayn lets out a shaky breath before nodding. “Okay,” he replies. “But my men will need convincing. They won’t take the order of going to war directly from me. They need to know that the one with the crown is ordering it. It won’t be easy.”

 

“Okay. I don’t need easy. I just need possible.”

 

Zayn leads Louis to the barbican, where the rest of the knights are settled. Always watching, always on guard. They all turn at the noise of their footsteps, their metal suits clanging lightly with their movement. “Please rise,” Zayn commands, stern. He’s taught them better.

 

They all hesitate before standing and Louis nods. “Well, then. Knights, I come asking for your bravery and strength against Prince Healy. He has wrongfully captured someone who is innocent and has humiliated me several times. Healy has said he’d let his prisoner go under the condition that I marry him. I do not want to be wed to him and live a tortured life. So I ask of you to help me free this man so I can live without any innocent blood on my hands,” Louis says. 

 

One of the knights in the front of the group squints his eyes. “You’re saying this like you haven’t humiliated him yourself, being caught with another man. It’s shameful,” He says. “I won’t listen. I don’t follow the orders of a woman. I won’t go to battle for you. I’m a knight, I have dignity.”

 

The other knights seem to quietly cheer for him and his misogyny. Louis smiles and nods, rolling his eyes in a playful manner. This is when Zayn would reprimand them but he knows that Louis has it under control. 

 

There are chuckles amongst the men before Louis draws Zayn’s sword from his sheath in a swift movement and points it at the neck of the mouthy man. “You call yourself a knight and disrespect him who is above you in the same breath?” Louis hisses. His eyes are wide and feral. “I am your king. If you won’t go to battle for me, you will still die for me. I will kill you myself. This goes for the rest of you too. Do not think you’re incredibly important to me. Zayn trained you, he can train a hundred more just like you.”

 

The knight is not so brave now. He swallows the lump in his throat and nods, careful not to disturb the tip of the blade at his neck. Zayn smirks. “Any of you lads want to speak ill of your king too?” Zayn challenges, snickering to himself when they shake their heads. 

 

“And if any of you try to utter a negative word about any woman that does not deserve it, I will cut your tongue out,” Louis adds before pulling back the sword and returning it to the dark haired man at his side. “Zayn and I will create a plan. We’ll come back with it to you.”

 

The plan starts as soon as Louis gives Liam a message to send to Prince Healy. 

 

\---

 

Louis wakes up unsure if he ever really went to sleep. With the weight of his mother’s death and his lover’s captivity, it was hard to doze off with an anvil on his chest that restricted his breathing and made his eyes water. 

 

He gets out of his bed and steps over to his window, pulling the drapes until the rising sun shines through. He sees the skyline silhouette and feels his throat go tight again. Prince Healy’s kingdom is so close to his, Harry is so close. He’s probably chained up below ground or high above it. It doesn’t matter. If he was at the bottom of the ocean, Louis would only make sure his boots were off before jumping in. 

 

He closes the curtains and begins to get dressed. 

 

Harry’s heavy eyelids burn against the sliver of light that shoots through the door at the top of the staircase. He can still taste his own blood in his mouth. He doesn’t notice that the figure is in front of him until a stinging pain settles over his cheek. “There’s no rest for thieves,” Prince Healy says. 

 

Harry’s lips quirk into a smug smile. He clears his throat and moves his muscles as much as he can, hearing his chains rattle. He looks Prince Healy in the eyes. “I only ask what I stole?” Harry says. 

 

“The purity of princess Ellery,” He answers.

 

“I don’t know any princesses,” Harry replies, smile growing a little larger just thinking about Louis though the chances of ever seeing him again are daunting. Every time his eyes are shut, all he thinks about are blue ones, deeper than any ocean he’s ever sailed. 

 

“A liar too,” Prince Healy. “I wonder what it was you fed to her until she let you have her way with her. You’re despicable. Thank the Lord she’s come to her senses and is letting me send you away.”

 

Harry drops his smile and raises an eyebrow, “What?”

 

Prince Healy is the one with a smirk now. “Yes. She’s agreed to sending you away. The wedding is no longer deferred, we can’t have someone come between us again. It’s happening even sooner since we decided the occasion should take place here. Tomorrow, actually,” He says. “She chose me.”

 

“No… No!” Harry barks out, straining against his restraints. The wall actually struggles in holding him, crumbling from the source of his pull. He wants to tie the chains around Healy’s neck and watch his skin go red then pale. 

 

“I’m so sorry she made you believe you meant something to her,” Prince Healy pouts. “Here’s some advice: Women will lie to get what they want. She tricked you.” He begins to leave but not before he looks over his shoulder and adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach her a lesson for the both of us.”

 

“Don’t touch him!” Harry growls but the door shuts. Alone, he sags against the chains and cries, unsure if it’s his tears or a leak that’s hitting the ground so loudly. He knows that there had to be a deal made. That Louis is only marrying him to get something else. Harry’s safety, possibly. Harry doesn’t want any safety if the sacrifice is Louis’s heart. 

 

“Are you wearing it?” Prince Healy asks, pulling Louis close and grabbing his hips, feeling the hard chastity belt there under his dress. He grins. “Good girl.”

 

Louis tries to smile as authentically as he can. All he’s doing is itching to see Harry. He could be putting the plan at risk. “How’d he take the news?” Louis asks, draping his arms around Prince Healy’s shoulders.

 

“I don’t believe he completely believed it.”

 

“Maybe I should tell him myself,” Louis tries carefully. Prince Healy raises an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of it. But then they’re on their way. 

 

Prince Healy talks to the knight guarding the door to the dungeon as Louis slips inside, dress dragging down the steps. He can see the figure against the wall, hands shackled above his head and long torso mottled. He’s still so beautiful. He’d be even more beautiful in the safety of Louis’s arms. 

 

Harry lifts his head up until he sees Louis. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me?” He says. Louis giggles, eyes shining with tears at his waterline. It’s been a mere day but Louis has missed his voice. “I’ve lived over a hundred years and I think I have finally died for there is an angel before me.”

 

“Shut up, you jester,” Louis says, reaching up to stroke his face. “I’m here. It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright, no matter what happens.”

 

Louis removes his hands from where he’s making contact with Harry as he hears quiet footsteps that don’t belong to either of them. “You don’t have to marry him, Louis. You don’t have to. I’ll be fine here. Please don’t marry him,” Harry begs, falling apart as he goes on. It’s evident he’s quite delirious after a long night of torture and no sleep. It breaks Louis’s heart. He takes a deep breath.

 

“I know I don’t have to,” Louis replies, keeping his voice steady. “I chose to.”

 

“You chose to? What deal did he make you?” Harry asks. “You don’t have to do it, Louis.”

 

“There were no deals made, Harry. It was entirely my choice. I had to face the facts. You have to face them too,” Harry shakes his head as his bottom lip trembles. “I wasn’t ever going to live happily ever after with you. I’m a princess… You’re… you’re a recluse.”

 

“Louis, please. Don’t--”

 

“There’s nothing you could offer me. You don’t have a fortune or any power. You’re not a prince. You’re not Prince Healy.” Harry sobs, hanging his head down until his long hair curtains his face. Louis doesn’t know how he manages to move his feet and walk away. He meets Prince Healy at the bottom of the staircase and links arms with him. “When will he be shipped away?” Louis asks as they take the stairs, a single step at a time. 

 

“Soon, my dear,” He answers. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. He won’t come near you ever again.”

 

Louis is led outside where a carriage is waiting for him. Zayn is holding the door open for him as he’s helped inside and sits down, straightening out his dress. Zayn says the official goodbyes before joining Louis in the carriage and they depart. “Did you and your men map out the castle?” Louis asks as soon as they’re quite a distance from Prince Healy’s front steps. 

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Zayn answers before pulling out a scroll from thin air and showing Louis the messy but sufficient map. “I even had another man on one of Healy’s ships in case it comes to that.”

 

“Thank you,” Louis says, the relief clear in his voice. He sits back and sighs. 

 

“He’ll be okay, my Lord,” Zayn assures him before they both settle into silence as they bump along the trail back to their kingdom. It’s a short ride that only lengthens in Louis’s mind because he doesn’t want to feel far from Harry. He reaches into the compartment in their coach and pulls out Harry’s compass, the brass cool underneath his fingertips. If Louis were to use the compass to guide himself home, it’d take him back to Harry, he knows it. 

 

Louis’s dressed in his regular clothing and holding a dagger to Zayn’s neck, holding his hand behind his back. “Good,” Zayn huffs, breathless from the exercises they did. Louis lets go of him. “You get a little shaky though. I feel like you might only get shakier if your emotions get the best of you. You have to be collected, you know?” 

 

Louis nods as he puts his dagger back into his little sheath. They both turn their heads at the sound of the large door to the room opening and Felicite walking in. She still hasn’t gone back to dressing in her brighter dresses.

 

Louis dismisses Zayn as his sister comes nearer. “How may I be at your service, Princess?” Louis asks, bowing cheekily. She sighs but manages a tiny smile which means so much to Louis. 

 

“I think news is spreading throughout the castle about your future reign… as king,” She says. “Not everyone is happy about it. Charlotte isn’t happy about it.”

 

Louis sighs and shrugs. “I never expected everyone to be happy about it. But you were right, Felicite,” He says, squeezing one of her shoulders. “I shouldn’t sacrifice my happiness. There’s nothing noble about it. I don’t think people should let me affect their happiness either. Who I am has nothing to do with them. I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

 

“And will you be okay, brother?” She asks. “The people can be very nasty sometimes. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

 

Louis smiles and shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He kisses her head before they both begin their walk back to their bedrooms. Tomorrow is a busy day.

 

Harry pulls against the chains with another pained growl. Now it’s only the shackles around his wrists that hold him here. He has nothing left. 

 

Those countless years of self hatred come back and smack him in the face with a heavy hand. No one will ever love him. He isn’t worthy of anyone’s love. He’s going to wander the earth, searching and never finding a heart that will give him shelter. 

 

His eyes shut and all he sees are blue ones. Blue ones deeper than any ocean he’s ever sailed, and he’s drowning. He only wishes the blue would fade to black.

 

\---

 

Louis plays with the layers of white lace that tickles his forearm as a flowers clips are snapped into place in his hair. His hair no longer lays flat. It’s longer now and flares from his neck. He hates it. He’s seconds from grabbing the scissors only a few feet away from him and cutting it short again, minutes before he’s expected to walk down the aisle. Disgust curls in his stomach seeing himself in the mirror. He was never meant to be wed in a dress. 

 

All the servants asked to ready him for the wedding leave him be, giving him a few moments to himself. He looks at his palms and traces the prominent lines that cover them. He thinks he’s never ached to hold someone’s hand until now. He misses Harry’s hands and how they held him, pleased him, reassured him. 

 

“Maybe you could just go through with it,” Charlotte says and he startles. He turns his head to face her, not the one in the mirror. “Forget about everything else and try to love him.”

 

Louis turns back, heart not in the mood to fight his own sister. “I couldn’t because it’d be a lie,” Louis replies. 

 

“You could  _ try _ t--”

 

“Not the loving him part. If I went through with this, my skin would no longer be just skin. It’d be lies and I’d never be able to escape from it,” Louis explains. He stands up from his chair and spins on his heels. “Lottie, please. Believe me when I say that I have tried ever since I was a child to ignore all that I feel. Believe me when I say that I’ve never enjoyed taking a beating for straying too far from the path that everyone’s made for me as a woman. I can’t go through with it and deny myself of happiness. I can’t do that anymore.”

 

Charlotte says nothing more. She nods, biting her lip, and exits the room. Louis lets out a sad sigh. 

 

Harry wakes and wishes he hadn’t. He knows that today is the day Louis is bound to someone else and he doesn’t think his heart can take it. He rests there, unmoving, wishing for this day to go by quickly. At the sound of the first note of music, he screams and thrashes against his chains. He tires himself out quickly and pants heavily, tears rolling down his cheeks. The music floods his ears and makes it hard for him to stop thinking. 

 

He wonders if he could scream Louis’s name loud enough for him to hear it. That it’d make him think twice, remind him of the times they had. Though they were so short, they were sweeter than honey. The taste hasn’t completely left his mouth but he knows when it does, it’ll leave a bad aftertaste. He’ll have to teach himself to never indulge in sweet things ever again. 

 

Louis walks down the aisle as gracefully as he can, flowers in his hands. Prince Healy is stood at the altar, dressed in red with a cravat around his neck. Louis could pretend and maybe even fool himself into believing this was a beautiful day. But Prince Healy isn’t a thing of dreams. The heavy chastity belt that wraps around him reminds him of the hurt and oppression he would face. 

 

Everyone smiles, some genuine, others fake to match the same one Louis has. His sisters are nowhere in sight, possibly on their way back to the castle. Louis only had them around for appearances earlier but he would not have them near later. Zayn is sat at the second pew, nearest to the aisle, and he finally glances at Louis. 

 

Louis drops his bouquet.

 

The false dreaminess of this day fades as the music stops and every other guest gets a weapon out. Louis bends down on one knee to reach under his skirt, grabbing his trusty dagger that’s tucked in his garter. He sees that Prince Healy has just begun to assess the situation and he sprints down the aisle, his blade gripped firmly, as he closes in on Prince Healy. 

 

Prince Healy grabs his wrist before Louis can sink the dagger into his flesh. With his hand held in the air, Louis can’t harm him so he carefully releases the dagger, catching it in his other hand, and finally gets a first stab before Prince Healy can block it. He hears the prince moan in pain and Louis only wishes it could amount to the pain he had to endure because of people like him.

 

He pulls the blade out, all four inches and gets an arm around Prince Healy’s waist, his other arm holding the dagger up to his throat. “You’ll never have my hand,” Louis says. “I need the key.” Prince Healy lets out a disgusting giggle as he pulls out a key, a key that fits in Louis’s chastity belt. “Drop it,” Louis commands and watches as a man he recognizes as one of his knights picks it up.

 

“You risk the life of y-your men just to remove the only thing that’ll keep you from running around like a whore?” Louis tightens the arm around his waist and pushes the blade until it touches his skin but doesn’t slice. 

 

“Don’t act like you know me. Listen now. You have a choice. You leave me and my family alone and you leave my kingdom alone. You leave anyone that has ever even looked in my direction alone and we both live in peace. I won’t pursue you for any of the humiliation you’ve brought to me or the pain you’ve brought to those I care about. This is the choice I would recommend. It is in your best interest.”

 

“What’s my other option?” He asks, still smug.

 

“What do you think it is?” Louis counters. “I slit your throat. And don’t think I wouldn’t. I’ve already sunken this blade four inches into your flesh. I wouldn’t hesitate to make it all six.” 

 

Louis gives Prince Healy off to one of his larger, much stronger knights and they guide him to Niall, who’s holding a peace treaty. Niall smiles cheerfully despite the situation as he hands Prince Healy a pen and holds an inkwell up for him. The prince groans as he signs it. “Yet again you embarrass me,” Prince Healy huffs as he lifts the pen from the paper. Louis barely has time to move before the prince slips out of the knight’s arms, lets out a yell and drives the sharp end of the pen into his shoulder. 

 

Louis cries out as pain shoots through him, focused right on the pierced flesh of his shoulder. Before the prince can attempt to harm Louis anymore, Zayn jumps behind him and gets to crook of his arm around his throat. He squeezes until the prince slowly falls to the floor, gasping for breath until he loses consciousness. 

 

Louis shakes as he gets a hand around the pen still sticking out of his shoulder. He bites his lip and yanks it out, crying out in pain again. Blood oozes out and spills onto his white wedding dress. He was never meant to be wed in a dress. 

 

“Are you alright, my Lord?” Zayn asks, carefully examining the small but deep wound. 

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Louis answers, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He turns around and sees the unconscious bodies around the church. It’s a bit extreme that he did this for love. But he realizes it wasn’t just for that. It was for himself too. For anyone like him. “I’m fine… But please take me home, Knight.”

 

Louis is dressed into his proper proper pantaloons and his tailcoat before he starts the ride back to his kingdom, where his home awaits. He stays silent, not wanting to intrude in the little world Niall and Zayn have created just a few inches from him. When they make it in, Louis has bled through his bandage and stains his white shirt. But he can’t be bothered when there is only one thing on his mind. It hurts but he runs, runs inside. The movement is searing his wound but he keeps going until he’s in the hall that leads to his bedroom. 

 

His feet slide to a stop in front of his room and he takes a deep breath. He slowly opens the door to find Harry stood at his window, a long towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is dripping wet and his skin is covered in tiny droplets that shine like pearls. He turns around and Louis sees those green eyes, those pink lips. He’s the most beautiful thing Louis’s ever seen, his eyes can’t help but glass over. “Louis,” he breathes out, reminding him that this a real moment. Harry is finally his forever.

 

“My Love,” Louis says, voice trembling as he closes the distance between them and holds onto his waist. Harry’s body is no longer just covered in drops of water but Louis’s tears as well. “I would’ve died if I spent another day away from you. I would’ve stormed that kingdom the second you were taken from me but I was advised not to. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I made you believe that I willingly agreed to marrying someone so vile. I will never hold your heart with anything but the gentlest of touches, I promise.”

 

Harry smiles softly, cupping his cheek and thumbing away a tear. “I was afraid that everything that happened between us was an illusion. I thought I lost you... Is your heart still mine?” Harry asks.

 

“Yes,” Louis answers without a beat. “Do you still love me?”

 

“Yes, of course. Always,” Harry answers just as quickly. “I… What happened?”

 

He pulls away from their embrace, taking Louis’s hand and guiding him over to the bed. They both sit beside each other on the edge. Louis takes both of Harry’s hands and explains the entire plan, his knights mapping out the castle to find the most efficient way of getting Harry out and figuring out what to do if the plan went wrong, Louis putting on the chastity belt as a declaration of submission to Prince Healy, placing knights in specific spots in the church, the signal to start the fight. He’s about to mention the end when Harry sees the red bleeding through his tailcoat. “My Love, you’re hurt,” He says, removing his hands from Louis’s to strip him of his jacket. 

 

“I know,” Louis sighs. “He managed to sink the pen he used to sign the peace treaty into my shoulder. Isn’t that ironic?” 

 

“I’ll slice his throat with the thin edge of the peace treaty if he tries to harm you ever again,” Harry says, nosing at Louis’s temple before kissing his cheek. He doesn’t think he’s ever missed the feeling of someone’s skin beneath his lips so much. 

 

“He won’t,” Louis replies. “Harry?” 

 

“Yes, my Love?” He says, pressing kisses along his jaw.

 

“Will you help me?” Louis asks, retrieving a key from his pocket. 

 

Louis locks the door before he sheds his pantaloons and bloomers. All that’s left is his bloody shirt and the sinister chastity belt. Harry reaches out to drag his fingers along the thin metal that wraps around his hips and swallows the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe he would lock you in this,” Harry says, seeing the start of the metal teeth that sit in front of Louis’s opening. It’s a torture device that doesn’t physically hurt Louis. It’s so evil that Prince Healy could ever believe he could own Louis’s body in this way. 

 

Harry works hastily to get this key in the tiny lock. He hears it fall to the floor loudly and he pulls Louis into his arms, mindful of his wound. He kisses the junction of his neck and whispers, “Get on the bed, my Love.”

 

Louis sits in the middle of his bed, stripping off his shirt before lying back with his head rested on his pillows. Harry climbs onto the bed with a roll of bandage in his hand. He sits beside Louis before gently lifting his arm to wrap the bandage around his shoulder. He kisses Louis’s lips after he finishes wrapping him up. “Missed your lips,” Harry says. 

 

“I don’t want to leave this bed for two solid days to make up for lost time,” Louis says before bringing their lips together again. Harry smiles against his.

 

“We have years to make up for lost time, my Love,” Harry replies. “But I do fancy the idea of not leaving this bed.”

 

He licks Louis’s bottom lip before start to kiss down his neck and carefully move down Louis’s body until he’s situated in the V of his legs. He kisses Louis’s prominent hipbone and gently drags his front teeth over his skin, a touch of red marking his path. He kisses Louis’s inner thighs before focusing his mouth on the junction of his legs, his tongue copying what his fingers did just a few nights ago and then some. Louis gasps loudly and his hands immediately go to Harry’s hair, grabbing a few locks in his hand. He sighs as the pleasure is no longer shocking but blissfully relaxing. He shuts his eyes and settles back into his pillows.

 

Harry wakes in the middle of the night, a phantom ache in his wrists and his heart feeling broken. But he feels soft sheets beneath his horizontal body and soft, warm skin beside him. He curls around Louis and kisses his nape, shutting his eyes and falling asleep again, breathing in Louis’s sweet scent. 

 

\---

 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks as Louis guides him through the castle. He has no clue what their destination is but he moves anyway. If Louis asked him to move a mountain, he would only ask which direction before doing it.

 

“The cellar,” Louis answers. “I want to properly introduce you to my friends.” 

 

Louis and Harry get down to the cellar and find Zayn pressing someone against a cask. “Well, glad to see you putting him to work, Zayn,” Louis says. Zayn pulls away and a dazed Niall is revealed. He’s not even embarrassed, Zayn blushes enough for the both of them. Louis brings an arm around Harry’s waist and smiles. “This is Harry,” He says.

 

Zayn turns his body and nears the both of them. “Ah, so you’re the one we ambushed the wedding for?” Zayn says, raising an eyebrow. He smiles before extending his hand. “I’m Zayn.”

 

They talk for a few moments before Louis thinks it’s time to leave because he doesn’t want to keep Harry waiting. They part with the other couple and walk back upstairs, hand in hand. 

 

They dismount their horses by the tree that used to be their safe haven. “Do you think he’ll still be around?” Louis asks, gravitating towards Harry and pressing himself into his side. Harry shrugs before kissing his forehead. 

 

“The fire gave him quite a scare but I think he’s smart enough to know that… it’s not safe outside these woods for him,” Harry replies as they begin to walk. “I really hope they didn’t pursue him. It’d crush me if something happened to him.”

 

“Me as well,” Louis mumbles, feeling his skin go tight with how much guilt he’s feeling again. 

 

As they walk, Louis thinks that he’s going to miss all the green and the bird songs. But he’s glad he’s never going to have to miss Harry because he’ll always be near. They search before they get too deep and wind up lost, retreating to the same cliff that Harry showed him not too long ago and he thinks about how much has changed in so little time.

 

“Last time we were here, we weren’t in love,” Louis comments. Harry hums before leaning over and kisses his temple. 

 

“You might not have been, my Prince, but I was,” Harry admits with a sweet smile before bringing their lips together.

 

When the kiss is broken, Louis says, “Well, maybe I was too. I just didn’t know it then.” Harry smiles but there’s something in it that doesn’t match his overall brightness. “What’s wrong?”

 

“When are you going to tell me?” Harry asks and then he clarifies, “When are you going to tell me you love me?” 

 

Louis frowns. “Do I have to tell you?” He replies. “Don’t I show it enough?”

 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he adjusts the way he sits, turning his body towards Louis more. “You do, my Love. But… Is there a reason you won’t tell me it? Is there something holding you back? Are you still unsure of the way you f--”

 

“No,” Louis cuts him off and stares at his lap. Harry cups his cheek and turns his gaze in his direction. “I’m afraid.”

 

“Afraid of what, my Love?”

 

“Your curse… You said it keeps you alive… Maybe I’m being selfish-- No, I know I’m being selfish but if I could keep you around forever, I want to. What if something were to happen to you again? And I actually lost you? I couldn’t live with myself.”

 

“So when you die, you’ll leave me to roam the Earth in search of someone else, hoping they’ll verbally admit to their love for me?” Harry says. He inches closer to Louis and cups the other side of his face, making him unable to look away from his eyes. Louis expects him to be upset but he’s smiling. “My Love, I promise that I will always be with you. I promise you that my heart will beat as long as yours does, and my heart will stop beating when yours does. Louis… You  _ are _ my fucking heart and that is more fact than the sky being blue and water being wet. I love you, Louis, and I can wait but I don’t want you to be afraid.”

 

Harry smashes their mouths together and it’s rough, teeth knocking together and lips being bitten. In between the wet mess of their kiss, Louis manages to breathe, “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

 

“Don’t want to force it out of you,” Harry replies. “Want it to come naturally.”

 

“It’s always natural,” Louis says as he soft sucks on Harry’s bottom lip, “because it’s always true.” He stops the kiss completely to say, with bitten red lips, “Harry, I l--”

 

They both turn their heads at the fast pattering coming towards them and the black flurry that accompanies it. “Harry!” Louis screams as the clumsy panther tackles him and they both begin their fall down to the water. Harry’s yell echos over the land, and Louis doesn’t even think before he jumps after them. 

 

When Louis’s head pops up from the water’s surface, he sees Harry with his wet hair covering his face and Christopher clutching onto him. Christopher lets go and then begins to swim to the water’s edge, climbing out. Louis swims over to the sightless Harry and clears his face of his wet hair. They both get out of the water and crawl through the tall grass. 

 

Harry rolls onto his back when he finds a good place to lie and looks up at the sky, catching his breath. Christopher sits on a boulder nearby, licking away the droplets of water on his fur. Louis planks beside Harry as he tries to settle the sharp jump of panic he had. “Christ, imagine if I told you I loved you before Christopher knocked you off and almost killed you,” Louis says. He looks over at Harry and sees him smiling up at the clouds.

 

“You jumped in after me,” Harry replies, almost splitting his cheeks with how big his smile is. “Why did you do that?” Harry asks, leading Louis to the answer he wants. Louis rolls his eyes fondly. He straddles his hips and bends until he can see the details in Harry’s eyes, his dilated pupils and the flecks of gold in his jade green eyes. He tucks his fingers into Harry’s wet hair. 

 

“Because I love you, you utter moonling,” Louis replies before kissing him and it’s the sweetest kiss they’ve ever shared. “You and your glorified cat. I love you and I want you forever,” Louis adds, eyes still shut because he knows once he finishes his thought, he’ll go back to kissing Harry. 

 

The knights have their swords ready when they see the black panther but back off when they see Harry and Louis atop their horses right behind him. “Please don’t touch my pet,” Louis says. 

 

Liam nearly chokes on his own breath as he passes the couple and Christopher. “Alright, Liam?” Louis asks casually. Liam nods as he continues walking, occasionally looking over his shoulder. Louis giggles into Harry’s side.

 

Louis looks out the window to make sure that no one is bothering Christopher as he snoops around the courtyard. Harry sits in his bed, reading through his spellbook. “My Love?” Louis turns around to see Harry still deep in his spellbook. “Do you want me to continue making you vials? To continue your physical transition?”

 

“I don’t know,” Louis replies with a sigh. 

 

“Have you changed your mind about it? Or is there something else troubling you?” Harry asks. He pats the area beside him, “Come here, my Love.”

 

Seated beside him, Louis explains. Only recently did his apprehension grow because he couldn’t stop himself from overthinking everything. He knows that his identity is one that isn’t accepted by all, he’s heard a lot of stories of people like him and they’re all told with hatred on the tongue, he knows that people wouldn’t be afraid to harm him if given the chance. That doesn’t bother him nearly as much as losing those close to him, willingly or unwillingly. He’s already terrified of losing Charlotte because she hasn’t spoken to him since the wedding ambush. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if what happened to Harry ever happened again. 

 

“Oh, my Love,” Harry coos before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I understand how that would frighten you. But Charlotte is your family and she’ll always love you, I know that. It will take her time to fully accept who you are because she’s just a child, Louis. Her mind is just as big as she is and as she grows, so will it. She will come around and she’ll love you just like she always has. As for the other thing, unfortunate events are always going to happen, not just because of your gender, but because you’re a king and you’re from a royal family. You can’t stop them, you just have to be ready to solve them. But you have your knights and your brain and me to help.”

 

He kisses along Louis’s jaw before Louis’s skin disappears from beneath his lips and he feels his weight on his hips. “Marry me,” Louis sighs as he rolls his body, his crotch creating friction against Harry’s. 

 

“I want to,” Harry replies, biting his lip as pleasure begins to coil in his lower stomach. “But I’m not of royal blood.”

 

“We’ve broken almost every rule since we’ve been together. Breaking this one wouldn’t hurt,” Louis says before cutting off Harry’s next thought with his mouth.

 

“What’s the first rule we broke?” Harry manages to ask. 

 

“You stealing my heart, you pirate,” Louis snickers before Harry kisses him and rolls them over until he’s on top. “Going to make love to me, Captain Styles?”

 

“If that’s what you wish,” Harry says as he begins to get Louis out of his clothing. He removes Louis’s black tailcoat and freezes when he sees the blood where his healing wound is. “I thought your bleeding stopped, my Love?”

 

Louis looks at the blood stain on his white shirt and sighs, “Diving off the waterfall must’ve caused it to bleed again. But I’m fine, I promise.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks.

 

“No, I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” Louis answers. “And I think I can handle you too, Captain.”

 

Harry smirks as he sheds his own clothing.

 

\---

 

The day of his coronation, Louis is dressed in his finest clothing and in a blue velvet cape with a gold trim, an homage to the one his father wore the day he was crowned. He feels his heart beat furiously in his chest as he looks around the room, knowing that he’s their king and they’ll be looking to him for guidance. He’ll be in charge. It all overwhelms him until his eyes land on a specific person and he feels a softness envelope his heart, settling it down. 

 

Harry smiles brightly at him as the shiny, silver crown is placed on his head. He’s proud, knowing that Louis is creating history by coming from a royal family and being visible as who he is, regardless of the scrutiny he’ll face. It takes all of Harry’s strength not to step away from his pew and plant a kiss on Louis as he walks by. 

 

During the festivities following the coronation, Harry sneaks away to Louis’s bedroom. He still hasn’t gotten used to life around more than a single person and a large cat. But he’ll adjust. He’ll do anything to continue to be beside Louis until he’s buried beside him forever.

 

He reads a book from Louis’s collection as he waits for the party to die down. He only puts it down when the door opens and his newly crowned king comes through, eyelids and cheeks a warm shade of pink that gives away the alcohol in his system. Harry smiles and pats the bed beside him. Louis smiles back and crawls over to him, lying down with his head in his lap. “I’m finally a king,” Louis mumbles. 

 

“You have always been a king,” Harry says as he cards his fingers through Louis’s hair comfortingly. It begins to lull him to sleep. “The king of my heart.” 

 

Louis rolls onto his back so he’s looking up at Harry with his dopey smile. This world is theirs, and Louis will defend it from anyone who threatens it. But when rocks are thrown at them, they’ll never go to hardening their hearts for protection. They’ll stay soft and only love each other more. That’s always been their way of coping and healing. Love. 

 

“You are the light of my life,” Louis says. “You are all the elements: fire, earth, water…”

 

“Air,” Harry finishes for him with a giggle.”

 

“Air,” Louis repeats. “I can’t believe it took you a hundred years to find love. Don’t take offense but I’m grateful for it because it is my heart that welcomes you. It is a blessing to love you.”

 

Louis knows that he’s going to marry Harry without any care of rules or what others think. He’s going to marry Harry and love him with every fiber of his being even after the light inside of him gives out. Their love after death will be in the form of a stellar nebula made up of their souls. They will love eternally.

 

“Thank you for taking notice of me, my King,” Harry says.


End file.
